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Weekly Drabble Challenge - Theme: Fire

Due to the fact that I'm rather uncreative and a certain element has been up and present in my life lately...

Your prompt for this first round is fire!
It can be a literal fire, or a figurative fire, but the central theme of your drabble must be fire in some shape or form.

The following form must be used when submitting your drabble responses to this post -

Name:
House:
Title:
Warnings:
Words:

Winners will be awarded 15, 10, and 5 points respectively.

All drabbles must be less than 500 words; All standard grammar rules, and MNFF submissions guidelines apply.

The challenge will be up for a week, and be closed exactly a week later (November 1st).
MithrilQuill and I will be judging them and posting results a couple of days later.

All questions should be referred to the Question Corner - Do not post questions here. Only drabbles!

Other than that...have fun!

~Gato Loco & Mith~

I've left moddom/fandom...though don't be surprised if I get caught lurking once in a blue moon.
All questions pertinent to Ravenclaw need to be sent to ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor
If you wish to keep in touch, feel free to friend me on LJ - I don't friend anyone under the age of 18. Sorry!

Ron had been watching her grow for the last six years and it was becoming extremely annoying not to tell her how much he cared. For him, she was the most perfect girl that ever could come to Hogwarts: she was beautiful, intelligent, brave and very loyal to her friends.

They had met in their first year, and even though they hadn’t come to a good start, their bond started to form after he and Harry had saved her from a mountain troll. Ever since then, day and night, the three of them had been together; for better or for worse. They had faced many challenges throughout their years at Hogwarts: rescuing the philosopher’s stone, solving the unknown when the Chamber of Secrets was opened, saving Sirius Black, and now, their greatest challenge, defeat He-who-must-not-be-named.

All through the years, he maintained pretences that he only cared for her as a friend; a sister at the most. But deep inside of him he had always known that the moment he gave himself the chance to get to know her a fire was started inside of him. A fire so strong it drove him mad. But his shyness wouldn’t let him talk; wouldn’t let him act.

Now, Harry had gone to find a Horcrux with Dumbledore, and he and the others were left to stand guard at Hogwarts. Harry was sure Malfoy was planning something and had succeeded. It was as though he thought a fight would ensue at Hogwarts.

Doing his best not to show his elation at being left alone with Hermione he agreed, but as Harry instructed them to call for help of the other members of the group called Dumbledore’s Army, his heart sunk low.

Once the few that had answered were together, he gave them instructions, posting them at different places to keep lookout. As he saw Hermione go down the corridor with Luna, he couldn’t do much more than to think with all of his mind, “be careful down there.”

When the last remains of her cloak disappeared as she turned at the corner, he turned away and started to walk in the other direction, hoping against hope nothing would go wrong in the long night ahead.

Hope it's all right, I wrote it in less than ten minutes and constantly looking at the clock because I shouldn't be here... =)

Lost inside his own mind where people were dying horrific deaths, children were screaming and multi-coloured jets of light shot through enclosed air full of smoke and debris, he didn't feel the goblet pressed to his lips, didn't taste the horrible, cloying sweetness that masked the poison sliding down his throat, no longer registering the burning in its wake as it dessicated the delicate tissues.

"Master Regulus must swallow!" croaked a house elf, his deep voice reverberating off the walls of the cave around them and carrying across the unnaturally still lake.

He didn't register Kreacher rubbing his throat, coaxing the liquid down; didn't feel it as the elf pressed the final goblet to his lips, aware only of the smoke which clouded his eyes and made him cough, and an exquisite, unslakeable thirst.

Somewhere from beyond a dream, he heard water, rippling in soft waves, promising sweet, cool relief. The rhythmic sound painted splashes of cool, blue light on his consciousness, illuminating the way. It took him a million years to roll over, and he crawled a million miles, scraping his skin on the ground beneath him, knowing only that if he made it to the water, he could immerse his head into it, drink it forever . . . He would be safe.

At long, eternal last, he reached the water and immersed himself in it lest he dissolve into dust should the slightest breeze waft across him. And instead of the blessed relief it had promised, it brought with it an overwhelming stench of death, decay and horror. His last thought before a lungful of frozen steel was "fire".

Fire.

Fire would protect him. Its warmth, its light . . . it would draw off the bodies around him, fight them back, burn them and send them away . . . to the hell they should have been in, instead of in this place, guarding the most terrible secret Wizardkind ever had to offer.

Fire. Fire would help him, would warm him, would illuminate this darkness that threatened to encroach upon him . . .

According to him, she was the most beautiful girl in the world. Perhaps someone else might say that she has wild bushy hair, or that her front teeth are overly large or she is a bossy insufferable know-it-all. He might have said the latter, but today he could see the fire in her eyes. Her determination to fight for the Light was apparent. He could make it out just by looking into those chocolate depths. Just as she pushed her tangles behind her ear and shouted, “Ron! Have you been listening to a word I’ve said?” , he jerked back to reality.

“We need to leave for Harry’s place in exactly five minutes. You know the plan. And well…this is dangerous, so umm…”

“Hermione, of course it is dangerous, this entire war, our fight against Voldemort: all of this is dangerous. But isn’t this for a better tomorrow? Our kids- “

He stopped as Hermione looked at him surprised.

“I mean, look, whatever we are doing, it is only to ensure that our side doesn’t lose and that we live happily ever after.”

She gave him half a smile and said, “When did you grow up so much? And you know, all Muggle fairy tales have an ending like that. Funny you should mention it.”

There was a pause and she sighed, thinking about all the obstacles that lay ahead of them. There were four Horcruxes to be destroyed, and Voldemort too had to be defeated. Their current mission was equally dangerous. They had to bring Harry to the Burrow safe and sound. The plan was terrific but Hermione remembered what her mother had told her about ‘Murphy’s Law’. Her mother…living without any knowledge of Hermione. Her father…he didn’t even know he had a daughter. But at least they were safe, and happy.

“So, Hermione, you think it’s time? I don’t know if we’ll return but if we get Harry safe here, it’ll be worth it.” Ron’s eyes were downcast and it looked as if he was having trouble controlling his emotions. It seemed as if he wanted to say something, but was finding it difficult.

The fire was still there, but now those eyes also held little pearls of tears. She flung herself at him and whispered through them, “Oh Ron! Don’t say that. I don’t know what I’d do without you…I, I mean without either of you.”

Looking very pink, she entangled herself from Ron’s scarlet neck. The fire was back, very visible. She was ready. They were ready.

This is my first attempt at a drabble. I'm used to writing full length and I exceeded the word limit here. I had to go back and edit a lot of it, and frankly I don't like the end result. But I am entering because the prompt is just amazing!

It all started out very innocently enough. They had both arrived back from their patrolling duties as prefects late in the evening. On top of that, they also had homework to finish from various classes. Remus had been halfway through his Potions essay when Lily had suggested they roast marshmallows.

“Lily,” Remus sighed, running his hand through his hair, “I need to get this essay done, not cook confectionary over the fireplace.”

Remus looked at her incredulously. “Do you always finish your homework that early?” he asked, a teasing lilt in his voice.

“No,” Lily replied, “But Potions is rather easy.”

“Maybe for you,” Remus grumbled, but he could not help smiling at her.

Lily grinned back. “You wait right here, I’m going to get the marshmallows from my dorm.” Before Remus could say anything in return, she had already run up the stairs that lead to the girls’ rooms, her dark red hair swinging behind her. He had always thought of Lily as pretty, but he would never admit it to her. For one, he’d be too embarrassed, and what would happen if James found out? He liked the support of his friends, and he didn’t want them to fight over something as petty as a small crush on a girl…

“I’m back!” Lily called, bringing with her a small package. Remus’s eyes bugged at the sight of it.

“Lily, how many marshmallows did you bring?” he asked.

Lily’s eyes glittered. “Enough.” Out of what seemed like nowhere, she procured some skewers. She passed one to Remus, and he could not help but feel tingly when her hand brushed his.

After selecting a pink one from the packet, she happily poked it onto the skewer and thrust it near the fireplace. Remus chose a white one and did the same.

They sat together in silence, apart from the crackling of the flame.

“You know,” Lily said, “I think they’re almost ready.”

Remus removed his from the fireplace and examined it. “It’s gone all black and charcoal-like.”

Lily swatted at his shoulder and Remus nearly lost his balance. “Don’t be silly, these are Muggle marshmallows—they’re meant to cook like this.” Sliding her own off her skewer, she pushed it gently into Remus’s semi-open mouth. “Don’t you think they taste better, though?” she asked brightly.

Remus, who was still trying to recover from the shock of having a marshmallow shoved in his mouth, merely nodded. After managing to regain control of his tongue again, he swallowed it.

“Did you like it?” Lily asked, eyeing Remus’s white marshmallow. “Aren’t you going to give me yours, considering I so graciously gave you mine?”

He nodded, picking up the marshmallow and gently placing it in Lily’s mouth. He felt happy, carefree and warm, and that warmth didn’t come entirely from the fire.

Ever since that night, Kreacher’s hand had burned. Sometimes, if he was angry the burn was strong and sharp. Other times, it was a dull aching pain and it felt like he was being roasted on top of a large fire, never quite touching the flames, never quite burning but still, too hot.

It had been a Friday. Kreacher remembered because Friday was the day that he cooked shepherds pie and apple crumble; Master’s favourite. Kreacher loved to see his Masters and Mistress happy, and he knew that Master Orion and Mistress Walburga were happiest when Master Regulus was home from … whatever he was doing.

Master Regulus had arrived home earlier than usual that Friday. He seemed rushed, and Kreacher had hesitated, unsure of what to do for once, surprised at this sudden change of routine. Master Regulus had a strange look in his eye, as if he was burning up, and if he was no longer being controlled by himself but by something else that had ignited something deeper within him which burned and burned and burned and refused to go out.

Master Regulus had shrugged off Kreacher when Kreacher offered to take his cloak. His hands seemed clammy and agitated, and he was clutching at something underneath the folds of fabric. He had grabbed Kreacher by the shoulders, so hard that Kreacher felt numb.

The Master had given Kreacher the strangest set of instructions. Kreacher knew that he had no choice but to obey – his duty lay with all of the Blacks, even with Master Sirius, whom Kreacher despised.

Kreacher left with Master Regulus. In the kitchen, shepherds pie and apple crumble sat smouldering above the fire which burned and burned until the food was no more than ash. When Master and Mistress returned home that day, they would find Kreacher gone, and Regulus gone, and they would know that something was wrong.

Everything was a blur. Unbidden flames had flickered in front of Kreachers eyes as Master Regulus sped with him along a narrow ledge at the edge of the sea. And into the sea they plunged, emerging where the salty wind and the cold bit at their papery skin and made them shiver uncontrollably.

And then … the lake. Master told Kreacher to take the locket when it was time, and run. Master drank; the green liquid splashed and flew around the immediate air like a flurry of enchanting flames. A drop landed on Kreacher and he screamed for it burned hotter than anything he had ever felt and he looked away from Master because the pain from his gaze (inhuman, almost) was just too much.

Kreacher screamed and screamed and flew through the wall of flames that Master created in his last moments of sanity. The fire, the water and the salty air burned bitter and hot. Kreacher’s hand clutched at the locket, the chain flying up his arm leaving a charred black trail, a scar much that burnt onto his master’s arm.

Fire of Life

Name: NezHouse: HufflepuffTitle: Fire of LifeWarnings: There is a slight mention of torture.Words: 464

She was like a candle, always burning and glowing.

Her hair was flame-red. It shone in the sun and reflected the glow of moonlight in the night. Her hair caught the snowflakes in the winter and there they would melt.

There was something mischievous, a glint of that suppressed rule-breaker, in her eyes. A tiny fire would spurt in her gaze when she got mad.

There was a fire in him that couldn’t be put out in a million of years. And it only went higher, stronger, warmer every time he laid his eyes on her. he was afraid the fire would consume him, and then everything would burn.

Then she caught his fire too, and they were glowing together. United into one, their fires became stronger and yet so pleasant. He only ever hoped to live that day.

But there was a war going on, and they didn’t have time to be really innocent and young and wild and free. But their fires lived on, even as flames of battles were raging all around the country.

And they fought, because they had a fire in them, that righteous flame, that wouldn’t let them stand aside. And their magic flames spurt high and their love never wavered.

There were Death Eaters in one battle and they didn’t get away on time. The monsters got his Lily and almost blew out her flame. He made a feeble attempt to save her, and a curse hit him, and he felt his nerves on fire. He was burning from the inside and it was agony far beyond anything he knew.

Sirius came and saved them with his angry flame that night. And it was him who was there when Lily and James had Harry, a new little candle in the world of fire, in the world on fire.

The baby grew and they hid. But prophecies have a way of coming true, and James knew it, even if he wouldn’t admit it to himself. When a blow that was about to extinguish his fire was about to enter, he just told Lily to run. He smiled at her, because that was what he did when there was nothing else to do.

There was a final flash of fiery red, and that was the last thing that he saw. He didn’t see the green of an evil curse or the evil face. And he didn’t care, for he knew Lily’s fire would keep Harry safe. And then he was going to see her again, in all her glory, and they would start burning anew.

And they burned in Heaven together as their old home got consumed by flames, and they watched their son’s road through and around fire. His little candle grew big and he made them proud.

For months I’ve been pondering what to give you for your birthday. It is your seventeenth, after all. It would have to be perfect, and though the day has come for me to give it to you, the ideal gift has yet to come to my mind. There isn’t a thing I could give to you that would show how much I care. Nothing that would prove to you how devoted I am, even when you claim we cannot be together.

Nothing, except…. But there’s no chance of that. There are too many people around for the wedding, and we would never get the privacy needed.

Though… if they are all getting ready for the wedding, maybe they will be too busy to bother us…. I hope so….

I can hear you and Ron and Hermione coming up the stairs. Well, it’s now or never.

I open my door and ask you to come in for a moment. Ron doesn’t seem to want you to, but you do anyways. It’s the first time you have been in my room. I’m nervous and am not sure what I say before I kiss you, but it either wasn’t too stupid or you don’t care, because you kiss me back with such intensity. I can feel your flames of passion singing my tongue as it dances with yours, yet your touch is gentle and loving.

I don’t want this to end….

And yet it does, as Ron bursts in, uninvited. We didn’t even get past the first stage of all that I hoped would happen….

As you leave with him and Hermione, I can’t help but wonder if you had felt the flames as well. If you had wished to continue, too. If you had felt the same gut wrenching sorrow when we were forced to stop…. If you loved me as much as I love you….

And Suzie, I think I beat you.... I haven't drabbled in over a year. My inspiration has finally returned, after being lost for quite some time.

He stared at his reflection in the puddle for the longest time. The faint hissing noises in the distance could not arrest his attention. The darkness around loomed over him like an impenetrable sheet, but his eyes seemed to challenge it to come any closer. As if on cue, it stayed away, the only patch of light surrounding the handsome figure.

Riddle looked down more intensely, trying to dissect his appearance. His dark eyes flashed as he noted the resemblance. I look like you. His expression changed to something bordering amusement and anger. But you are gone. And I’m left. A crooked smile spread over his lips. So you finally knew who the better of the two was .

The water shifted a little, creating small ripples on its surface. But Riddle kept his gaze intact. You killed my mother. And I – killed you. The unpleasant smile stretched further. And I will kill anyone else who dares block my way to glory. The heat emanating from his body was now unmistakable; it was steadily growing stronger. But revenge starts at home. So I started with you. The ghostly laugh on his lips widened, rendering him a hollow and haunted look.

And now it’s the turn of those who dared defy my ancestor. Who went against the wishes of the greatest wizard of all times. Who challenged Salazar Slytherin. His eyes flashed once again as his smile diminished and he contemplated his next move.

The hissing noises grew louder, as if in want of something. Riddle’s mouth twisted back into a devilish grin.

‘Wait a minute, will you.’ The voice was oddly like the hiss of a snake.

He locked eyes with his reflection. I will come back to you later. After I finish the task I was born to undertake.

Eyes flaring, he acknowledged the monstrous snake which had appeared behind him and hissed again.

It was always hungry. It was on a continual quest for food, tearing through areas filled with combustibles, consuming all it its path, and continuing on for more. It could devour a forest, swallow a castle, and engulf the countryside. It was insatiable in its hunt for more, never stopping until all sources of energy were at last gone.

Just as he, Tom Riddle, was insatiable.

But his was a quest for power. His fuel was the weak. There was an over-abundance of such people and they were easy to smother as he pulled them within his ever widening embrace.

His mark, his symbol of dominance, was fire. It was seared upon the flesh of his followers and scorched into the minds of those too cowardly to follow. With the touch of one, long finger, he could ignite fires across the Continent, as his followers would race to join in on his current mission.

He preferred to think that his own fire was Gubrathian Fire. There was no chance of extinguishing such a flame, such a spark in the night. Simple charms could douse a flame, but no charm, not even death, could stop his fire.

Nothing could stop it. He would ravage the country, seeking those who could further feed the flames. Like the flames in a parched land, he would be unstoppable, unconquerable.